


The Taste of Ashes

by vvheelthewriter



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Minor Sexual Content, verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvheelthewriter/pseuds/vvheelthewriter
Summary: Ingrid suffers with her choices after the war as she rebuilds her homeland and herself. Yuri's always there.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	The Taste of Ashes

Madness, the old lords of Faerghus cried, insanity. As much faith as Ingrid held in Byleth and Claude, she could not argue that the world as they knew it was broken and raw, cracked open like a bad blister. And the new king and queen of Fodlan were also King Khalid of Almyra and the Archbishop. That was a lot to take in.

To Ingrid, even when he came riding with the Almyran army to save them from certain doom just after the war, Claude was still Claude. Whether he had always been the secret prince of a faraway land didn’t matter to her when she had so few friends left.

Felix was the first to leave. She knew he was going to the moment he began calling Dimitri by his name. He never told her where he was going or if he’d ever see her again. And in a way it was like losing the last parts of Glenn she ever had. Sylvain wasn’t far behind, though he retained his title of Margrave. That meant in politics she would see him again, but she didn’t know in what capacity she could call him her friend.

“I’m going after Felix,” he’d said simply, packing in front of her and speaking to the wall. His eyes were filled with a fire she’d only seen in battle. So this was love.

They’d won the war, but in her heart Ingrid was burying three bodies instead of one.

\--

For the longest time, food tasted like ash. During the war, it sparked joy within her and she craved it. It helped her retain muscle as she fought and comforted her when she mourned losses. Now, the losses were cutting deeper than any sensation could reach, coiling around her nerves until she was numb. She set her fork down and stared at the hearty meal on her plate, but did nothing to it otherwise.

Judith, something of a relative that she called cousin for simplicity’s sake, noticed, “You’re going to fade away, girl. You’ll need your energy if you’re to make this proposal of yours sound good.”

Ingrid swallowed, but her stomach felt like a weight within her. She looked across the table and saw love, joy, friendship. Claude and Byle- the king and queen holding hands. A sight she was sure she’d never get used to as close as the two had always been.

She was going to ask them to keep Galatea’s borders together. She wanted her homeland preserved instead of torn apart. Galatea was unique in its suffering and starvation. It was stronger together than it was apart. She bit her lip, chewing it, and stared at the table instead of answering Judith. As much as her cousin seemed to want to extend her hand in friendship...Ingrid held a certain fear of her. Claude and Judith were close. It was very likely Claude would be giving the Galatean lands to Judith’’s family in some sort of tribute. She knew the possibility was there and the idea frightened her. Judith was capable...but Judith was a stranger to her people. They didn’t trust easily and a new leader would bring about protest and fear. She needed Galatea to remain under her family’s guidance at all costs. 

Under the weight of Judith’s stare, Ingrid excused herself from the table. Claude had insisted on dinner before the arduous meeting, but his focus seemed to be on nothing but his wife and Ingrid couldn’t hope to try to speak to him about anything right now.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she reached the porch and someone spoke from the wall behind her, “You didn’t touch dinner, that’s not like you.”

The voice was sultry, teasing, but there was no playfulness in it. Yuri was being serious.

She turned, straightening herself, “Yuri...I was just leaving.”

“Right,” he was unconvinced, “you’re avoiding me.”

“Of course I am,” she stared at him, blushing with shame but unable to lie, “you make me nervous.”

“You haven’t seen me since the war ended. Did cooking for each other have that much of an impact on you?”

Yes, she wanted to say, you were the only real friend I had when I decided to fight for Claude. “No, it’s simply your...shadowy nature.”

He scoffed, amused, “How haughty of you. That’s the Ingrid I know. Not the pale thing playing with her food at dinner. Big things to say at the meeting?”

“Huge things...excuse me,” she made to brush past him, but he stopped her with a gloved hand on her arm.

“Ingrid, you’re more capable than you think. Certainly more than your father thinks. I kill people for a living, do you think I have time to make friends with just anyone?”

She blinked, “You shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“It’s no different than what you are. A knight usually gets a smaller payout.”

She should have been offended, but her heart quickened. Nobody’s ever called her a knight with such certainty before. The yearning in her chest, after all these years, to be a chivalrous knight still lingered within her and she felt tears prick her eyes, “Let go.”

His grip lessened, but his hand ran down her arm soothingly instead, “Ingrid, what is it?”

“I’m going to ask the king to keep my land together instead of giving it to his most trusted advisor. And I know my people will still hate me for it anyways. It’s all a mess.”

“Do you regret defecting to join Claude’s side?”

She shook her head, realizing how bottled she’d been about Dimitri’s insanity and death, “No, no, Felix was right. Faerghus was a kingdom without a king. Even when he was alive. He was...a monster. I watched him try to kill Mercedes on the battlefield. The Dimitri I knew…” her brows furrowed.

“I understand,” his other hand took her shoulder so that he was soothing her completely. He looked rather pretty like this, dressed in black furs and velvet for the cold evening at Garreg Mach Monastery. His hair spilled over one shoulder and she was entranced by the idea of touching it before she snapped herself away from him.

He was so graceful where she was boyish and it reminded her of Dimitri when he stuttered and stumbled around Byleth as a student. She blushed, turning away from Yuri, “We should go inside.”

She caught the worry in his stare before he hid it behind that mercenary's mask he always wore. Ingrid knew trauma and war, but she would never understand how he killed so easily, so swiftly. They were different, no matter what Yuri thought. Knights and mercenaries. Ingrid and Yuri. She would never be able to read him, but she had an unfortunate feeling that he always read her like a book.

\--

In the end, Claude had never intended to give Galatea to Judith. “She doesn’t want it, first of all,” he drawled, “but mostly it’s your home. Nobody else can tell us how to help your home better than you. Besides, remember that save against the dragon, the one that nearly took my head off? I owe you for that.”

She’d smiled, stiffly, but she was doing better at talking to Claude and his teasing. The king didn’t seem to have a problem with restoring her family as leaders of Galatea. But he had asked for a precise list of things that her people needed in order to begin growing their own food on such barren land.

And so that’s how things went. Ingrid’s father was the leader of Galatea, but Ingrid was in charge of the list and did most of the work. She sighed in frustration, watching as another group of farmers ranted against her to the knight who led her around to different farms.

She sat on her pegasus, attempting to withhold her temper as the men spoke of how Ingrid Galatea abandoned Dimitri in his time of need and only now does she serve a king. Ingrid bit her lip, taking the insults on the chin. She waited until they were finished before speaking, “Just tell me what you need from the king.” They continued blathering like she wasn’t there.

Half of the answers she eventually got were about Faerghus. The rest were good enough to write down for Claude.

\--

The moment Ingrid returned from another meeting at Garreg Mach, her father announced he was leaving to speak to Margrave Sylvain Gautier about taking her hand in marriage. She blinked slowly at him, biting back a thousand fire-laced words, “Be safe on your journey, father.”

Her father said nothing as he left, clearly still angry with her, but he trusted her enough to lead while he was gone. The contradiction made her head spin and she sat down in a chair to breathe. Again, the moment she tried to eat, the food tasted of ashes and she fed it to her pegasus in the stables instead along with his usual oats.

She was surprised to find Yuri visiting her late at night, far later than appropriate for a visit, but she allowed him inside and out of the cold, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been in Galatea for a while. I heard you’d returned and I wanted to see you.”

She blanched at his forwardness but decided to take it as nothing more than Yuri being blunt, “Would you like something to eat?”

“Are you eating?”

“Yes. No.”

“Which is it?”

“Yuri, why are you here?”

“I told you why.”

She stared at him for a long time, only blinking when he did. His eyeliner was slightly smudged from travel and she resisted the urge to reach forward and wipe it away with her thumb. “Be careful that I don’t take that the wrong way.”

“What way do you desire to take it?”

“Please don’t tease me.”

“Are the people being kinder to you?”

She stood in front of a mirror and busied herself by slowly removing the pins from her hair that held her braids, “Kinder? Lately...yes. I haven’t been insulted to my face if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I don’t want you insulted at all.”

She sighed, “I betrayed their trust, I will need to earn it back.”

“A noble cause for a noble knight, but you spilled your blood in that war. You did enough.”

She finished the last of her pins, hair falling down in strange waves as she stared at him, “Do you think I deserve their trust? Would Dimitri have said so?”

He stood from his chair, walking over to her. She hadn’t expected him to stand so close, but she didn’t push him away, “Don’t go there with your thoughts. You’ll create ghosts like he did.”

As much as the words were daggers in her heart, Yuri was right. She wanted to bristle and tell him he didn’t know Dimitri like she did. But nobody knew Dimitri. In the end nobody could save him. She hated crying, yet here she was, tears forming as she stared right at Yuri, moonlight and night sky that he was. She gasped when he moved forward and held her in his arms.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, waiting for him to let go but he never did. Even when her fingers gripped the black wool of his coat he never let go, “My father left.”

“I saw him, he passed me along the road east.”

“He’s going to ask Sylvain to marry me.”

Yuri was quiet for a long moment, “Do you want to marry Sylvain?”

She sighed, “Of course not.”

He pulled away to stare down at her, not much taller than her but enough with his boots, “I’ve been in Galatea for months.”

She blinked slowly, “Months. Why-”

“These are your people but they are suffering and sad and they found you to blame. I wouldn’t have that. I care about you, Ingrid. The people needed to know your truth. How capable and strong and powerful you were. So as cruel as they may be, I’ve convinced them to keep fighting for you and your family. To believe in you like I do.”

She gasped, “Yuri...you’ve helped me in unimaginable ways. I can’t fathom-”

“I’ve been underground for a long time. People listen to me. And they listen to the truth. Your people will prosper and they will fight to farm and to live. Under your banner.”

“No more, I’m going to cry,” she said softly before wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her face into the soft locks of his hair as she hugged him, “Yuri, you’re my truest friend.”

“Ingrid, I’m not asking this out of payment, but I don’t want you to marry Sylvain.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, “I told you it’s not my decision. My father-”

“I want you to marry me.”

She let his words sink in and said nothing. Her eyes found his lips and they looked soft. Every part of him was simultaneously sharp and soft and she realized that with all her heart she wanted to kiss him. So she did.

\--

Her light clothing stood out from his dark pieces on the floor, but both of them matched in ethereal skin in her bed. She kissed him feverishly, attempting to muffle herself as his fingers slid in and out of her. When he replaced them with himself, she was begging and he had to purr sweet soothing words in her ear to calm her. My Ingrid. Beautiful dove. Take what you want.

His voice was beautiful. In the end, she did take what she wanted just how he liked it as she rode him. Her hips swayed, pushing him deeper inside her as she came and she continued until he found his own release.

Pressed against him, she pet his soft chest and ran her fingers along the various scars he had from sword fighting. He was no myrmidon...he was something else. Something wicked and wild and she realized that most people would call Yuri untrustworthy. But to Ingrid he was the only person in the world she could trust.

Her father would be furious, she decided, as she admired the silver band Yuri gave her under the moonlight. Dressed in a robe, she sat down at his insistence as he shirtlessly made her dinner. She admired the muscles of his back as he plated her food and she laced her fingers with his as she began to eat his cooking.

The food was no longer a comfort. But it tasted amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> First FE3H fic. I really wanted to see more of this pairing. Reviews appreciated!


End file.
